


It's Always Been You

by MaraudingManaged



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 13:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12211854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraudingManaged/pseuds/MaraudingManaged
Summary: Sirius pulled the man to him in a kiss that was fraught and fierce with emotion. It was dominating, claiming, and it was angry - all teeth, tongue and bruised lips that left them panting and wide-eyed from the intensity of it.He knew in some deep, dark part of him - a part in complete denial - that this would be the last time.*Contains canon character death, mild smut mentioned.





	It's Always Been You

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SingMeARareOSComp](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SingMeARareOSComp) collection. 



> This piece is part of the Sing Me A Rare OS Competition Autumn 2017. I had a choice of song and one character which are Still Getting Used To Being On My Own by Tom Odell, and Sirius Black. The Admins of the group then randomly chose the other character or characters. 
> 
> All character, spells, magical equipment and locations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling.
> 
> I'd like to thank MissandMarauder (the ever-lovely Malia) for their tireless work as my AlphaBeta, and my darling friend Trina for helping me squash my word count.

 

 

 

* * *

_“When I'm playing the piano, singing out of tune_ _  
_ _The person I picture in my head has always been you”_

 

“James?”

Sirius Black ran his fingers through the hair of his best friend, lover, soulmate. It was dark, short, spiky and everything he loved, sticking up at odd angles, all mussed from sleep. As messy and haphazard as the wizard it belonged to, and even more impossible to control. The hazel eyes he adored slowly blinked open in the dim early morning light, and his lips turned up at the corners. Sirius’ heart fluttered. Though he didn’t say it often - because he was _severely_ fucked-up which made admitting things like feelings difficult - he loved James Potter with everything he could possibly give.

“Mhmm.” James mumbled, his voice raspy. “Whu‘sup?”

Sirius propped himself up on his elbows, hovering over him with a devilish smirk. James’ eyes widened a fraction before Sirius kissed him - mouths pressed together softly, breaths mingling. James’ arms reached up to loop around his neck, digging into the long curls that were forming at the nape of his neck, and Sirius groaned as he tugged just hard enough for him to feel a slight sting.

“Unless you’re after an early-morning shag, I’d stop.” Sirius breathed, nipping James’ bottom lip between his teeth before sweeping his tongue over the lightly bruised skin.

“Promises, promises.” James grinned, carding his fingers through the curls again for good measure. Sirius kissed him again in retaliation, gaining an eager response as he was dragged underneath the covers for a thorough snogging and exploration.  Hands that had been grasping Sirius’ hair travelled over the bare skin of his back, and he hissed into James’ neck when nails suddenly dug into his shoulders, causing small half-moons to form in the ivory expanse.

“Can’t.” James gasped into the quiet room. “Moony and Wormtail are still here. They’ll kill us if they catch us again.”

“Ugh.” Sirius thudded down onto the mattress, rolling onto his side so that he didn’t crush James with his weight. “Fucking Hogwarts.”

“You love it, you twat.” James teased, voice full of laughter. “Better than that Grim Old Place.”

“Can you not talk about that shitehole until the last _possible_ minute, Prongsie? You really do know how to ruin a mood.” He prodded his chest, earning another snort of laughter. Sirius cringed at the thought of returning home to his harpy of a mother and the dark, looming shadow that was his father. “No more mornings like this for the whole bloody summer.” _No more happiness_ was what he wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat. Sodding feelings.

“I know.” James said softly, somehow always hearing the unspoken words. “Only six weeks, though, and you can come home as soon as your family decides that you’re more trouble than you’re worth. Mum will be waiting at the Floo with open arms - favourite son.” He grimaced playfully, and Sirius offered a grin in return.

“That’s true. See how long it takes me to piss ol’ Walburga off enough to send me packing to you and Mum… Hey! It’ll be like a competition - you’ll have to owl me ideas.” His grey eyes brightened suddenly at the thought.

“Not sure that’s such a good idea, Pads.” James muttered. “Remember last summer?”

_Of course_ Sirius remembered last summer. His father had beaten him black and blue for refusing to have dinner with the Death-Eaters-in-waiting and discuss all the ways in which Voldemort was going to bring _glory_ to the world or some such bollocks. He’d stumbled through the Floo to the Potters at three in the morning to a panic-stricken elf, who’d had to hold him upright until Fleamont and Euphemia could get some healing potions and a vial of Dreamless Sleep down his neck. He’d woken up late in the afternoon to James curled up around him, eyes swollen and red from tears.

He hadn’t been sure which hurt more - the beating, or James’ pain at seeing him that way.

James pressed a kiss to Sirius’ forehead, sensing the torrent of emotions in the boy next to him. “It’ll be okay, Paddy. Now, chin up. We need something explosive to end the year - something that will really make a scene. I’m thinking… Evans. She’s always good for a wind-up.”

The spark returned to Sirius’ eyes and he sat up with a bark of laughter, the duvet falling to pool around his hips as he stretched. “Too right. It’s pathetic how easy it is to get her arse in an uproar, especially this year with her shiny Prefect badge.”

James ran his fingers up and down Sirius’ spine before pausing, biting his lip as his eyes widened - an expression Sirius knew all too well meant he’d had a bloody brilliant idea. “Sirius, you know I… I _love you_ , you know that, right? Like… you do _know_ it, don’t you?” He asked seriously, his voice low and eyes fixed with a burning intensity on the black-haired boy before him.

Sirius’ eyes stung and he glanced away, swallowing. “C-course I do. I mean, it’s us, isn’t it? Black and Potter.” To his credit, and he was rather proud of the fact, his voice didn’t waver as he spoke the words to his best friend.

“Always.” James responded, linking their hands together and squeezing hard. “So I’m going to ask Evans out in front of as many people as I can. Possibly with roses. Perhaps with poetry. Maybe even on one knee, but _absolutely_ in the direct line of sight of Snivellus.”

Sirius blinked twice before doubling over, howling with unrestrained joy. “She’s going…” -  cough -  “...to hex…” - he choked as he imagined her face going beetroot to match her hair and Gryffindor scarf - “... your bollocks off!”

 

* * *

_“When it's cold and it's raining, I'm laying there at night_ _  
_ _I don't lay in the middle of the bed, I lay on the right”_

 

“So what number refusal are you on now, Prongsie?” Sirius grinned as he pinned James against the bookcase, unfastening the buttons on his shirt with practiced ease as he took full advantage of the dormitory the wizard had all to himself. Head Boy Prongs came with _perks;_ ones he was all too willing to take unfettered advantage of.

“One hundred… and eighty three… oh shit!” James bit out as Sirius’ hands slipped below the waistband of his school trousers, his hips flexing upwards. “But listen, that’s what.... Oh, Merlin... that’s what I’m trying to tell you, about Lily!” James moaned into Sirius’ mouth as their lips collided; a kiss that had been pent up for days due to the Head Boy’s bloody patrols, meetings, and other responsibilities that were a pain in Sirius’ arse.

“What was that you were trying to tell me?” Sirius purred in James’ ear, tracing the skin of his neck with his lips. “I’m _sure_ it sounded like my name, not Lily Evans’ … which is all I want to hear when I’m about to give you the best blowjob of your life.”

“Sirius!” James hissed, and Sirius felt victorious that he was able to distract James from whatever it was he had to say, his mouth completely occupied with the man’s cock. He didn’t even mind when his hair was pulled tight enough to make his eyes water - it was proof to him that in that moment, James Potter was all his. Sirius looked up from beneath dark lashes as he worshipped the man before him in the best way he knew, and felt pure satisfaction at the look of rapture on his face. His head thudded back on the bookshelf and his mouth fell open in a silent cry, glasses askew and eyes closed.

_Merlin_ , Sirius thought with a muffled groan, _he was divine_.

They tumbled to bed and spent the rest of the evening wrapped up in each other before simply breathing in the silence of the room. James traced lazy patterns on Sirius’ chest with an idle hand before speaking the words he’d obviously been meaning to admit - before the other wizard had pounced on him and dragged him to bed for a thorough seeing-to, anyway.

“Lily said yes. One hundred and eighty third time’s the charm,” he said.

Sirius coughed, blinking to clear away the post-sex brain-fog. “Pardon? Do mine ears deceive me?”

“Apparently I’m less of an egotistical arse and I’m worthy of her time.” James explained hopelessly, shoving his glasses upward, screwing his palms into his eyes. “Pads, what do I do?”

“Go, obviously. Then prank the ever-loving shit out of her!” Sirius exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

James grimaced. “I do have to work with her for the rest of the year. I need to keep it subtle. Less third-year, more seventh-year. ”

Sirius considered his quandary, then snapped his fingers as the perfect idea came to him. “Pull out all the Pureblood training, then. Be the most ridiculously perfect date she’s ever had, then just… I dunno. Use one of the charms where she wanders around, singing how incredible her date was with you to the tune of one of her favourite Muggle songs.”

A grin slowly blossomed on James’ face. “I… yeah. I like that. You’re great, Pads. This could be really brilliant. I’ve got a month and a half to plan it, anyway.”

When the next Hogsmeade weekend rolled around, all anyone seemed to be able to talk about was the upcoming date between James and Lily. It put Sirius on edge to the point that he was no longer able to sleep beside the man he loved. Instead, he wandered the halls beneath the cover of the invisibility cloak that he’d nicked from James’ trunk. Sometimes Peter, Moony, or both, joined him - companionship when the nights were too dark and dreams that James usually chased away haunted him.

“Why’s he doing this?” Peter asked one night as they sat on the ledge of the Astronomy tower, passing a joint between them. Moony was on the floor between the pair, not partaking in this particular vice but reading - providing a steady presence and sounding board.

“You know Prongs. Once he gets something into his head, he’s got to see it through.” Remus offered, a slightly mournful tone to his gravelly voice.

“Yeah, but… bit much, innit?” The blond boy grimaced. “They’ve been together forever. I know it’s a prank but it’s a bit shit.”

“I sodding started it though, didn’t I?” Sirius leaned sideways against the cool stone of the window arch, taking a long drag before blowing a bluish plume of smoke out into the night. “Anyway, it’ll be over after Saturday. Evans will literally be singing Prongsie’s praises and I can go back to getting a decent night’s sleep.”

“Want to spend the day with us?” Peter offered, nodding towards the werewolf who hummed his own agreement as he flicked to the next page in his book, and Sirius gave a soft smile to his mates.

“Marauder’s day out.”

To their credit, Peter and Remus stopped Sirius stalking James and Lily throughout their ‘date’ into Hogsmeade. They spent too much money on sweets and in Zonko’s, returning to school bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked. Even if James had sworn off third-year pranks, they certainly hadn’t. Moony charmed balls of mud to fling themselves at the back of as many Slytherin heads as they could spot, whilst ducking and hiding, making sure they weren’t caught _mud-handed,_ so to speak.

It was delightfully petty to Sirius.

Even so, he was keen to return to James. Letting himself in to the Head Boy’s bedroom, he threw himself down on the bed and curled up on the downy pillows and duvet that always smelled of _him_ \-  broomstick polish, books, and Firewhisky. He picked up one of the Transfiguration textbooks and started reading the week’s assigned chapter to amuse himself as he waited, but the night grew dark and reading by wandlight didn’t do anything to ease the pit of nerves in his abdomen until the bedroom door finally creaked open.

“S-Sirius?” James whispered. He looked up from the words on the page with a hazy blink.

“What time d’you call this, dirty stopout?” He joked weakly, but it fell flat as James stumbled in and sat at the foot of the bed dazed. “Prongs?” Sirius ventured, sitting up to rest a hand on James’ thigh, but the wizard flinched away from the touch.

Bile rose in his throat.

“It wasn’t… _she_ wasn’t what I thought.” James offered, then turned to look at Sirius with a haunted expression. “I dunno, Pads. She’s funny. Sarcastic. _Good_.” James stopped speaking, simply staring at Sirius with mesmerising eyes that he’d loved for so long. Waves of ice washed over his skin; fear crawled down his spine and replaced nerves in his stomach. “I think I’ve fucked up on this one.”

There was nothing else he could say, so Sirius pulled the man to him in a kiss that was fraught and fierce with emotion. It was dominating, claiming, and it was angry - all teeth, tongue and bruised lips that left them panting and wide-eyed from the intensity of it.

Sirius knew in some deep, dark part of him - a part in complete denial - that this would be the last time.

 

* * *

_“But these days are different, you're with some other guy_ _  
_ _Stubbornly I still write every word as if you're still mine”_

 

Sirius stared out at the moon, only a week away from full, and kicked his booted heels against the crumbling stone of the Astronomy Tower as he sat right on the ledge. He dangled a cigarette between his fingers listlessly, the wind kicking up his curls, snapping them across his face in whips of inky black. Tendrils of smoke drifted upwards spinning in the gusts, following the currents in the air. With a shaking hand, he drew the fag to his lips and breathed in, desperate for anything to fill the chasm in his chest.

Clinging to something real, physical, that might begin to bridge the gap that was ever-widening between him and James.

Pranks on Evans were vetoed. Then it was another date; then a third. Four dates. Five. Six. Escapes into Hogsmeade. Sirius had seen them walking around together on the Map when he knew they didn’t patrol together. James had changed the password to his dormitory again, this time he hadn’t told Sirius what it was.  

He didn’t stop coming into the Gryffindor common room, didn’t stop pranking with the Marauders, but…

But.

He kept a little distance, physically, from Sirius. The desperate contact the Animagus needed to feel human withered away slowly until, over the course of a few months, it stopped completely. Now he was floating aimlessly, sat on the ledge of the Astronomy tower, trying to feel _something_ other than the emptiness, loneliness and simple absence left by James Potter.

“Pads?”

_Speak of the Devil,_ Sirius thought wearily, but didn’t turn immediately at the sound of the man’s tenor timbre. Instead, he took another drag from the cigarette, stubbed the butt out against the wall in vicious stabs, and flicked it down into the abyss. He tightened his leather jacket around him like armour before hauling his legs up, resting his heels in affected laziness against the opposite side of the arch. Sirius ran his eyes from James’ feet up his figure, taking in every inch of the man he loved; his heart ached with the need to drag the wizard into an embrace and never let him go. Instead, he finally reached the tense face, the tight jaw, the shuttered eyes fixed firmly on a spot somewhere in the distance, and the ache in his heart turned into a sure _crack_.  “Prongs. Long time, no see.” Sirius drawled, his words biting and cruel.

“Don’t be like that.” James begged, finally meeting Sirius’ eyes, taking a hesitant step forward.

“Don’t dick around. If this was anything other than a personal delivery of a _Dear John_ , then you wouldn’t have taken _months_ to find the bollocks to come and talk to me.”

Sirius’ words reverberated in the silence that followed. James nodded with a bob of his throat. “Y-you’re right. Pads, I...”

“Well, that’s that, then.” Sirius folded his legs, resting his leather-clad elbows on his knees. “Save the speech. Can’t say I wasn’t expecting it, considering you’ve been such a spineless wanker about everything. It’s over. I get it, believe me. _‘I love Lily, I can’t be with you’_ , ad nauseum.” He waved a hand, shoving everything he felt down into a cage deep inside himself, locking it firmly so that James would never see how shattered he was in that moment. He purposefully maintained eye-contact as he spoke, watching as every one of his biting words hit their mark like a well-aimed hex.

“I never meant for this to happen.” James’ voice was hoarse and broken; as broken as Sirius felt, though he’d never admit it to the man who’d taken his heart out onto the porch and had at it with a carpet beater.

“Yeah, well… it has. Cheers, Prongs. I’d say it’s been grand, but...”

Unable to stand the look of pain on James’ face for a moment longer, and unsure how long he could keep up his mask of cold detachment, Sirius fled. He quickly found his way to the Room of Requirement, begging for somewhere to be alone, before staggering into the space provided - a room that looked just like the Head Boy’s dormitory.

He broke.

He fell to his knees right there in the middle of the room, and physically felt his mind snap. A current of agony ran through his brain, his body, his soul -  tearing him apart. He clawed at his arms as he hugged himself, rocking back and forth, his mouth open in a silent scream of anguish, of devastation; weeping for everything he had lost that had made him truly happy.

“Padfoot?” A voice broke through his noiseless mourning, and he looked up to see a blurry blob of mousey hair approach him. “Oh shit, mate.” Warm arms wrapped around him and he desperately leaned into the touch, thankful for the contact as Wormtail hugged him hard. “He’s a cunt, Paddy. It’s not worth this.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“I know, Pads. You’re well shot of him if he’s going to treat you like shit.” Peter spat angrily as he heaved the taller boy to his feet, leading him towards the bed.

“I can’t do that. He’s... _everything._ He’s saved my life so many times… I’m broken, but I’d be more broken without him.”

“You’re _not_ broken, Sirius!” Peter snapped. “Don’t say that, you arse!”

Sirius quietly disagreed, but allowed himself to be pushed down to sit on the bed. He dragged his hands over his face, clawing away the tracks of tears that stained his face whilst Peter dutifully gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. “I love him, and I just want him to be happy. I’ll stand by him, always. I know it’s crazy, but…  I don’t know how to do anything else.”

“That’s your call, mate.” Pete said, sitting beside him. “But it’s gonna hurt like hell.”

Sirius shrugged, saying nothing. He already knew as much - he’d felt it over the last few months as James drifted further and further away.

“Petey?” He asked after a moment, his voice uncharacteristically soft, uncertain.

“Yeah, Sirius?”

“D’you think if I’d told him I loved him more often, he’d be with me now, not Evans?”

Peter didn’t answer as Sirius transformed into Padfoot, curling up on the right side of the bed in a shivering mass of whimpering, wounded pup. The blond wizard’s hand tightened just a little on his wand, eyes darkening as he stood guard over the broken-hearted Animagus.

 

* * *

_“If I could still feel you laying in my arms_ _  
_ _Why can't I pretend? It does me no wrong”_

 

“Can’t believe you’re nearly one, Prongslet.” Sirius spoke to the child, rocking him in the chair. The boy’s messy hair stuck out at odd angles, just like James’, and Sirius snickered as it bounced back when he tried to smooth it down.

He was on Godfather Duty - a dubious honour, considering that James and Lily had gone to a meeting which he’d purposefully not been invited to. He didn’t mind, though. A little one-on-one time with Harry meant he could spoil the kid rotten in ways that Lily wouldn’t let James - even though Sirius knew he was just _dying_ to. So it was down to the Marauders to pass on their legacy to the first of the next generation in time-honoured tradition: behind the back of Lily Eva… _Potter_.

“It’d be so different, kiddo.” Sirius said wistfully to Harry as the child blinked sleepily up at him, bottle firmly fixed in his mouth. Emerald eyes stared up into his silvery ones and his heart stuttered guiltily. “If you were mine, I mean.”

Sirius paused, watching Harry fondly as he drank. “I’d stick you to a broomstick and take you flying. Nothing too high, but enough for you to know how incredible it feels. I’d teach you spells for pranks as well as for school. Don’t listen to your mum about that; it’s not all about books, but having fun and making friends that last a lifetime. Friends that will be there for you no matter what; who will forgive you despite the stupid stuff you do.” He chuckled. “And trust me, you’ll do plenty of stupid stuff when you get older.”

He removed the bottle as Harry fussed, lifting the baby to gently rub his back. “Me and your dad loved each other… but then he broke up with me. Smart bloke, your dad. I know I moan about your mum, but she was the better choice in the end; she’s whole and good, and I’m a broken mess. He’s my best mate, though, and I was Best Man at his wedding, even though I was a right arse - went to the loos and had a nervous breakdown. Uncle Moony and Uncle Wormtail had to come and fish me out before I fell right down into the toilet! Bit crap for a Best Man really - don’t tell your mum I said that.” He grinned as Harry gurgled in response.

“It’s hard, this unrequited love shite, but it’s all been worth it in the end, because I’ve got you. A tiny Prongslet, that might have been mine in a different world. Here’s the thing, though; you’ll be a Marauder like us. Being a Marauder means solemnly swearing to stand by one another, forever and always. That’s what I promise you, Harry. I might only be your godfather, not your dad, but I’ll love you like one. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Girls, boys, trouble -  I’ll be there. You can _always_ come to me.”

He felt the boy become lax in his arms, and a faint smile caught his lips at just how like his father he was. James could fall asleep at the drop of a hat, and it seemed that Harry had inherited that particular foible. Standing from the rocking chair, he moved across the bedroom to place Harry in his cot, tucking the blanket around him before running the pad of his thumb over the boy’s forehead. “Sleep sweet, Prongslet. I love you, always.”

A hissed intake of breath caught Sirius off-guard and he spun to see a figure in the shadows of the doorway, leaning against the frame. The shoulders shook before the retreating man disappeared from sight, and Sirius' heart stopped, and then start, and then stop again as nausea swam in his stomach.

_Shit._

It was like an Imperius curse pulled Sirius to the door just in time to see James sink to the floor; head in his hands, a broken sound escaped his lips. He didn’t want to see this. He hadn’t meant for anyone to hear his quietly spoken words to Harry - Lily and James weren’t even supposed to be back from Hogwarts yet. Instead, the confession he’d kept tightly bound inside for years had been heard by the one person he’d always ensured would never know it.

"James." Sirius whispered, closing his eyes and backing against the opposite wall, finding no escape from the haunted look in the expression of the man who had been his world for more years than he cared to count.  Nothing could be said to undo the damage that he'd done in that moment; the words said in innocence, for the love of a small boy and the man who had fathered him.  
  
"Don't." James whispered, eyes falling to stare at the floor from where he sat, long limbs drawn about him as if he could cocoon himself from his own feelings. "Just... please, Pads. Don't."  
  
Sirius nodded even though James wasn't looking at him, swallowing thickly. That the wizard before him couldn't even look at him hurt more than he could put into words. "Make Wormtail your Keeper, not me. It's safer that way - I'm a target as it is, but Pete's golden. We'll keep it secret, even from Dumbledore. I’ll be the bonder, and then I’ll keep my distance - you’ll barely see me, if you want."

James said nothing, his head slowly tilted upwards, misted glasses clearing to show red-rimmed hazel eyes.  He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath as if every action physically pained him. Preparing. Gathering strength for what had to be done, just as Sirius was.  
  
"That’s not what I was going to…” James began, but stopped himself and closed his eyes once more. He was silent for a moment before his voice, broken and hollow, simply said, “Y-yeah. Okay."

Sirius fought his heartbreak back into the cage it was well-accustomed to as he left.

 

* * *

_“And people call me crazy, baby they don't know_ _  
_ _I'm just getting used to being on my own”_

 

When he walked the path to James’ house, he knew something was wrong.

The door swung back and forth, an eerie creak sending a chill down his spine that was nothing to do with the cold and all to do with the _wrongness_ that seemed to ooze from the place.

He drew his wand and inched inside.

The kitchen of the cottage was empty: no sign of life. As he edged closer to the living room and the stairs beyond, the sense of unease grew. There was a tang of magic in the air, invading his senses - _dark magic_. It danced on his skin, crawled down his throat, bled into his eyes and ears everywhere he turned.  

“Prongs?” He whispered, “Lils?”

Nothing was returned from his quiet call.

Sirius’s heart danced a skittish rhythm in his chest, stomach tight and nerves alight with anticipation, fear, anxiety. He knew; he just _knew_ somehow what he was going to find as he reached the foot of the stairs, but it didn’t change the reality of it as he rounded the corner.

First the long limbs, still clad in pyjamas. A Gryffindor Quidditch jersey. Wand still clutched tightly in a hand that would use it no more. A face with hazel eyes, wide and unseeing, behind glasses that had always looked in equal parts daft and entirely perfect on his aristocratically handsome face. An expression of fierce determination, not one of defeat.

But defeat it was, nonetheless.

The ground rushed to meet him, hardwood floors colliding with his knees and palms as he crawled to the figure on the floor. Sirius cried James’ name over and over, hands grasping at his face, fingers carding through his hair, shaking him as if it would do something to bring back the man he had loved since he was eleven years old. Hot tears burned down his face as he tried spell after spell, refusing to admit that James Potter could possibly be dead. That James could possibly be gone from the world and he was somehow left alive.

The tears and the tremors were so hard and so strong they made his stomach heave and contract, and he dug his fingers into James’ still-spiky hair as he half-screamed, half wept into his cold shoulder. His chest burned as he sucked in air between sobs, grieving everything that had ever been and could never have been until there was nothing left in him to give - until he was empty.

Empty, and as cold as James.

Sirius slowly began to drag himself away when he heard a sharp wail in the night and his heart,  utterly dead in his chest, began to stutter into life. Harry. _Shit, Harry! He was alive!_

He staggered to his feet, meaning to take the stairs to the boy he loved like his own son, but through the window in the hall he saw a figure he knew almost as well as he knew… _had known_ … James’. Short, stocky, with a shock of mousey blond hair that was greyish in the pale moonlight, before the crack of Apparition stole his witness to the mists of autumn.

Sirius’ vision tunneled as realisation, the _truth_ of what happened that night sunk in. His devastation transformed into burning, agonising, all-consuming rage that tore through his core and lit up his heart like a torch against the neverending night that was the loss of James.

That rat. That absolute, fucking, unbelievable _rat!_ Traitor. _Traitor!_

In precise movements, Sirius leaned over and carefully removed the wire-framed glasses from James’ face and folded them neatly, before standing. He swept from the house, cloak fluttering behind him as he began to cast tracing charms on the recent Apparitions from the house in Godric’s Hollow, ready to begin his hunt. His face was one of wrath and fury as he stormed down the path, but he slipped the glasses reverently and gently into the inside pocket of his robes.

 

Directly over his heart.


End file.
